Counting Losses
by mad half hour
Summary: Kanda is a Pokémon Trainer who has never lost a battle to anyone…well, in the month since he got his Pokémon anyway. But despite his skill, all it takes is one meeting with a rude little boy for him to lose his composure entirely… Yullen Week:Battle


A/N- Why no, I wasn't listening to Pokémon music while writing this to keep me inspired, and the idea certainly wasn't formed while in the hospital and on morphine…

**Theme:** Yullen Week #2: Battle

**Summary:** Kanda is a Pokémon Trainer who has never lost a battle to anyone…well, in the month since he got his Pokémon anyway. But despite his skill, all it takes is one meeting with a rude little boy for him to lose his composure entirely…

OoO

**Counting Losses**

OoO

The first time Kanda meets Allen Walker, he is just beginning his life as a Pokémon trainer, with one starter Pokémon to his name, stowed away in a Pokéball attached to the belt around his waist. It had been given to him by the Professor of his cozy little hometown, an old man that was known only as 'Bookman' and as one of the few in all of the regions to record data on every Pokémon yet known to man. Lavi- a friend of sorts, if you consider burs that just won't get the hint and _let go_ friends- was insanely jealous, being a few months too young yet to begin his own journey.

Kanda has been training religiously from the first moment the Poochyena was given to him, and is quickly becoming confident in his growing skill. Kanda has yet to lose a battle, whether it is to a wild Pokémon or the occasional trainers he has met on his way to the closest town. Kanda, of course, is aware he has a long way to go before he can match, say, his mother's level, but he is sure that if things keep up the way they are, he can tackle his first gym battle in a month or so.

He smirks at the prospect of telling Lavi _that_. He can already imagine the fit the idiot Lopunny will pitch upon hearing Kanda got his first gym badge before he even got his first Pokémon.

Kanda breaks away from his thoughts to wipe at his forehead with the back of his hand.

It is a hot day, with nary a cloud in the sky to give relief from the scorching sun, and Kanda has long, black hair. Hardly a good combination for traveling in such weather. Usually he pulls his hair up to avoid just this problem, but his hair tie, or rather, his rubber band, had snapped not too long ago, allowing his hair to fall down just past his shoulders. The sable hair feels more like a blanket now, clinging to his face, making him all the hotter. Perspiration collects along his brows and slides slowly down his neck and back. The wind is arid and warm, doing little to soothe his heated skin, which he is sure will burn before too long.

Normally, Kanda would take a break for at least a few minutes, and sit in the shade of a tree to cool down. But according to the map installed onto his Pokédex, he isn't very far from the next town, and stopping now seems like nothing but a waste of time. Why rest under a tree when he could wait a half-hour and get air conditioning instead?

Kanda sighs in aggravation, running both hands through his hair, which feels scalding and soaked between his fingers. He pushes his bangs to the side of his face and away from his deep blue eyes, which are squinted against the glaring light and pointed straight ahead. He can make out the faint outlines of his destination, vermillion rooftops and a church's pristine white steeples seeming to waver before him from the heat, as if he's looking through smoke or water. Treetops block many of the buildings from his view, however, and their healthy, lush appearance dotted thickly between houses suggests the town to be very eco-friendly. At sporadic intervals, when the sun strikes them just right, thread-thin webs glint silver amongst the green leaves, homes to the nocturnal Spinarak and Ariados the town is known to house.

The boy allows a small smile at the sight, heartened that it won't be much longer before he can get out of the vicious sun. Kanda picks up his pace considerably, hitching his pack higher on his back and holding the straps in his hands to relieve some of the weight. Why had his mother given him so much, anyway?

The sound of a loud splash sounds suddenly to his right, just out of his peripheral vision, and Kanda turns to the noise, surprised.

A tranquil pond greets his eyes, partially hidden by thick-looking, unkempt bushes and Berry plants. The water glistens in the high-noon sun, the glassy surface still broken by slowly-stilling ripples. Surrounded by so many trees, the mirror-like surface takes on a green quality, the water looking considerably more like that of a sea than a pond. Cattails sway in the breeze along the muddy banks, and no more than two yards away from them is a small child, easily younger than Kanda.

Kanda, a mere lad of ten himself, cannot help but be awed by the outlandish white hair catching the sun's light. He is obviously not yet mature enough to stop things from striking him so heavily, or so adulterated by life that 'weird' instantly constitutes as 'bad'. The only other time he had seen such a hair color had been in a picture book he and Lavi had borrowed-without-telling-anyone from Lavi's grandfather, Bookman, and that had been the fur of an Absol. He had had no idea humans could possess such a unique hair color unless they were really, really old. Kanda fingers his own raven-black hair self-consciously, having always taken great pride in it. Next to such vividly pretty hair, his own-which he has received plenty of compliments on from the people of his hometown- seems dull and boring.

The white haired stranger remains oblivious to Kanda's intensely curious stare. They shift in the mud, uncaring that their pants must be completely soaked through with water, muck and pond scum. Their white hair is spotted with flecks of brown, pulled back into a spiky, uneven tail- shorter than Kanda's own- from which several strands have fallen loose to hang around their ears. Barely audible is the sound of their voice, speaking in a rush, punctuated by an odd, desperate whimpering. From this distance it sounds reminiscent to the babbling of a brook Kanda's mother liked to take him too, back before she had resigned her position as a Gym Leader and moved away from Edo.

Perhaps it is only because of the fond memories the gentle voice hails, but Kanda finds himself drawn inexplicably to it. As he creeps closer, being sure to avoid any loose sticks or rocks lying along the ground and gingerly parting the tall grass so as to not make much noise, he finds himself comparing the voice to liquid silver. The closer he gets, the more the voice seems to flow, up and down, every word's path sinuously shaped.

He is only a few yards away when a heart-stopping, inhuman yelp cuts off the stranger's voice like a dam. It is followed by continuous, pained whimpers, and the sound of a small scuffle as the white-haired person struggles with something in their arms. They nearly fall over from their sitting position along the lake's edge and into the water.

"I'm sorry!" the stranger apologizes to something Kanda can't make out from his position, but he guesses it must have been whatever made the noise, and whatever they are cradling to their chest. "I didn't wanna hurt you, but you needed an Antidote!"

Kanda's interest is further piqued at this. So what they're holding is an injured Pokémon? He can't help but frown. The stranger looks far too small to be of age to own a Pokémon, let alone battle with one.

Living with a single, hard-working mother-a retired Gym Leader no less- has made Kanda very particular about rules and laws, especially when they concern him in some way or another. His mother never had the time to deal with deviance and rowdy behavior, and so she strove to great lengths to insure she never had to. Ten years under a strict system of punishment when he does wrong, and reward and praise when he does right, has given Kanda a strong awareness for what he and others should and should not do. So despite his young age, he disapproves of blatant rule breaking almost as much as he disapproves of people calling him girly. Kanda has never been given an easy time when it comes to such things, has never once in his remembrance gotten away with even sneaking a cookie before dinner.

So to see someone breaking, not a rule, but a _law_ that Kanda had so religiously abided to, bothers him more than it would most children his age.

But like most children his age, Kanda is far more open to freshly developed whims, influenced by impulses only a few more years of trial and error will be able to reign in. This anger, itching under his skin, demanding to be scratched, pushes him away from the spot he had been standing and towards the white haired child. As Kanda closes the distance between them, he doesn't bother to hide the sound of his footsteps, boldly marching forward with steps derived from what he feels is very sound purpose. No matter how different the kid might be, he is surely still too young to be battling, and Kanda's not afraid to tell him off directly if no one else will.

Kanda's image is reflected in brilliant shades of deep blues and sea greens, cast among lily pads and clumps of weed and root as if the water were a mirror. The white-haired child sees this doppelganger long before Kanda's shadow looms over them, and turns accordingly, revealing a boyish, scratched face dotted with patches of drying blood, and eyes cast from liquid silver. In his arms is a small Eevee, no longer struggling to escape, sporting a sluggishly bleeding wound on its right front leg just above its paw. The boy doesn't seem to mind that his shirt sleeve, once a brilliant white, is being stained crimson.

Kanda's deep blue eyes meet the boy's silver orbs, and something somewhere deep inside of him seems to click. A jolt passes through his body, suffusing from his center and through his every limb, leaving behind a tingling sensation, as if electricity had just traveled through his very blood. Though not necessarily unpleasant, it is odd, so much so that he cannot help but glare accusingly at the stranger with such bizarre, bewitching eyes. How did he manage to make Kanda feel so weird, and then act as if nothing had happened?

"How old are you?" Kanda asks in a demanding tone, arms crossed and brows still furrowed.

Something about his stance, or maybe the authoritive tone of Kanda's voice, makes the other boy stiffen, back straight and shoulders pulled closer to his neck. The grip around the wounded Eevee becomes tighter, fingertips nestling into the cinnamon brown fur. His eyes pass over Kanda's face, the thinned lips and narrowed eyes, and he frowns.

When only silence greets his question, Kanda opens his mouth to repeat the inquisition, and kindly tacks on an inquiry as to the state of the boy's hearing. The frown deepens, and his eyes seem to harden, suddenly resembling fortified steel more than silver.

"Why should I tell you?" the boy retorts after another lapse of time. His tone of voice is obviously displeased, and holds mocking in its tilt. "Are you stupid or something?"

"I'm not the one sitting in mud and carrying a Pokémon illegally!" Kanda growls furiously. How dare that brat call him stupid! Any pleasantness associated with his white hair and smooth voice is forgotten after faced with such an offensive affront.

The white-haired boy rolls his eyes heavenward, as if asking for the help of some divine power to assist him. "How do you know if it's illegal or not? I never told you my age…stupid."

"You're way too tiny to be old enough to catch Pokémon, you little brat. Maybe if you put the Eevee down and leave now, I won't tell anyone." As if. The second he gets done with him, he'll alert the closest authorities possible. No one, especially not some pansy-boy shrimp, calls Kanda Yu stupid and gets away with it.

"You _must_ be stupid if you think I'd believe you," the boy responds rudely. He rises to his feet and cradles the Eevee around the middle with one arm, while he tries to wipe mud off of his pants with the other. It doesn't help much. "Are all new Trainers as dumb as you?"

To be frank, Kanda is quite sick of being called stupid, or any other variants of the word. So, instead of arguing back or yelling about it-because he won't let the boy have the pleasure of making him raise his voice if he can help it- he takes several large strides, until he is directly in front of the boy, and glares at him menacingly. He is several inches taller than the other, just over an entire head or so, and less slender in build as well. Kanda's bangs serve to put his eyes in shadow, making his narrowed eyes appear black, and overall more intimidating. Even Lavi, who is notoriously resilient, will back away when Kanda presents himself in such a manner.

If the kid is intimidated he doesn't let it show, peering straight into Kanda's angry expression unflinchingly. He blinks several times, looking confused as to why he is being overshadowed by the other boy, before he reaches an epiphany.

"Only jerks try to scare younger kids by making ugly faces," the boy taunts, sticking out his tongue and punctuating the word 'jerks' with a jab to Kanda's chest with his index and middle fingers. He only smirks cheekily when Kanda slaps his hand away.

"Well, it's pretty obvious you're too young to care for Pokémon, you immature brat," Kanda scoffs, resisting the urge to push the boy in the mud. Part of him yearns to very, very much, but that would make him seem hypocritical, and the brat would probably call him stupid again. Or worse, he'd go crying to his parents, and find a way to blame everything on Kanda. Not to mention he might hurt the Eevee the boy hasn't let go of yet, and Kanda doesn't want to hurt it.

He settles for imagining him pushing the boy into the pond instead.

"You don't know anything, you stupid…stupid…Straight-Fringe! I can take care of Pokémon just fine!"

Kanda scowls at the new nickname, and has to physically restrain himself from hitting the diminutive boy. "Che, yeah right. Bean sprouts like you'd sooner get eaten by one. And if you can take care of them so well, why's your Eevee hurt, huh?"

"_I_ didn't hurt the Eevee!" the boy protests angrily, pulling the Pokémon to his chest, mindful of its paw. In his anger, he seems blind to the fact Kanda has insulted his height, though Kanda himself would argue that it's just because he's slow. "I _found_ it hurt near the lake, and was taking care of it before you came and decided to be a jerk!"

"_Me_?! What the hell are you talking about? You were the one who started everything! I just asked you a question!"

The boy snorts in bitter amusement, face contorted in a sneer that looks terrible on his young face. Kanda wants to point out that it makes him look even uglier than he already is, but the boy begins to speak before he can do so.

"I called you stupid, Girly Hair, but you're the one who walked up to me like you were the king of the world or somethin'. You're not my dad or the police or anything, so I don't have to listen to a word you say." The boy stomps his foot in a fit of anger, making globs of mud spray upward and onto both Kanda and himself. He looks accusingly at Kanda with passionate, angry eyes. "I wouldn't have been mean if you hadn't stuck your stupid, fat nose into my stuff, or if you'd just asked me nice! You're not an adult; you're just a_ kid_, so you shouldn't act like you are one!"

The boy glares at Kanda with as much anger a child his age can, silver eyes scrunched up tightly and lips pursed. If he were older, it is possible that this may have delivered his message clearly and accurately: _I'm extremely angry, so shut up or leave me alone._ But the boy's face is all too wrong, composed of too-chubby cheeks that puff out and too-wide eyes that barely seem to narrow even with brows pushing down on them. Overall, he looks a lot more like a huffy Persian, and his spiky ponytail only adds to the allusion, looking far too much like the bottle-brushed tail of an annoyed feline.

Despite himself, Kanda begins to snicker quietly at the child's attempt.

This only serves to annoy the boy, who closes what little distance remains between the two of them. Standing on the tips of his toes, he growls furiously in Kanda's face. "What's so funny?!"

An actual laugh escapes Kanda, and he finds that once released, he can't seem to stop others from following.

"Shut up!" the child snarls, baring his teeth like a Skitty will sometimes bare their fangs. He swipes at Kanda with an open hand (his other still cradling the injured Eevee) who is so caught up in his amusement he barely manages to avoid the attacks.

The white-haired boy only becomes more and more frustrated as Kanda continues to dodge his swipes. His hair grows messier and more spiked as he repeatedly rakes his hand through it in an attempt to calm down, which makes Kanda's laugh escalate to a small roar. The normally cold boy's eyes shimmer with tears of mirth, and he doubles over, clutching his stomach.

He doesn't notice when the object of his amusement places the Eevee gently on the ground, or when the boy begins to back up, no longer lashing out at him. In fact, it isn't until the small body connects with his side that he realizes he probably shouldn't have closed his eyes.

The two fall into the water of the lake with a large splash, sloshing water far over the muddy banks and into the grass. A small school of Barboach barely manage to dart out of the way before the two meet with the mucky bottom, swimming quickly into the tall grass and cattails lining the banks to avoid the duo now rolling in the water.

Kanda sputters at the taste of the filthy pond water in his mouth as he bucks forward, knocking the smaller boy off of him easily with his superior build. He scrambles forward on his knees, unconcerned that the entire back of his jeans and shirt are soaked through, or that both his socks and shoes are completely waterlogged, and catches the escaping younger around his waist. The two topple back into the water, the smaller facedown beneath Kanda, squirming to free himself from the furious Trainer. In order to keep him from struggling so much Kanda holds him down by climbing onto the boy's slight back and kneeling on it.

"Are you an idiot or something?" Kanda growls when he's kicked away, wincing at the sting left in his gut.

The boy coughs, pushing his damp, now light gray hair from his face, only for them to fall back in front of his eyes again. "You're the one who tried to _drown_ me just now!" As if to emphasize his point he hacks up more water. It sounds sort of painful, but Kanda knows that he deserved it for starting the fight in the first place, and doesn't feel so guilty about those grating, raw fits of coughing.

"It's not like I _meant_ to!" Kanda shouts defensively, not liking the way the boy makes it sound like he had done it on purpose, like he was trying to really kill him or something. That would just be dumb; this idiot kid wouldn't be worth all the trouble that comes with murder.

"Yeah? Then what kinda moron kneels on someone's back while their head's in the water, huh? I couldn't get up and you didn't let me!"

The Eevee yips fretfully from the sidelines, running back and forth along the bank but unwilling to jump in the water to reach them. Both ignore it in favor of sending each other a sharp glare, Kanda wringing out the bottom of his tee-shirt, the young boy bent at the knees and wheezing lightly, small hand on his chest. He shakes his hair-now free of his own spiky tail- like a wet Growlithe to shoo away excess moisture.

Kanda scoffs at the gesture, which effectively breaks the majority of the intense heat between them. "You're so immature," he tells the boy seriously as he wades slowly out of the water, the heavy legs of his jeans making funny flopping noises whenever they hit the water. They cling to Kanda's calves like an old tee-shirt he used to wear a few years back that got shrunk in the drier, only wetter. They are like this the whole way up, same with his shirt, and he can already feel them rubbing against his inner thighs. It is very uncomfortable, and he knows he'll end up getting a rash long before he reaches the next town.

Surprisingly enough, he is barely stepping back toward the foliage, completely ready to leave this entire humiliating experience- how could he have stooped to a stupid little _kid's_ level?- and this infuriating boy behind, when said boy calls out to him loudly. His voice, the very thing that had first brought Kanda's attention to him, echoes among the trees, filling the small clearing entirely, and Kanda turns, albeit reluctantly.

To shut his loud mouth up, of course.

"What do you want _now_, bean sprout?" he asks him with a voice strained by a hyperbolic number of different sufferings brought upon him by the one he is addressing.

The boy makes a face at the nickname, eyebrows brought closer together so the patch of skin between them becomes wrinkled and bumpy, nostrils slightly flared and lips fixed briefly into a one-sided grimace that shows a flash of two or three teeth on only one side of his mouth. It looks extremely strange; the boy is not very good at showing his displeasure.

"Why are you leaving?" he asks when he has stepped out of the water, shoes making wet squishing noises and a sodden path in the grass as he moves to the Eevee, which has trotted up to meet him. Kanda glares at the Pokémon, childishly offended that after all this it takes the incorrigible boy's side so easily, as if there is no doubt it's the right thing to do.

"'Cuz I need to get to the next town before dark," Kanda informs the boy, even though he knows he doesn't have to and would really rather just push him back into the lake. But that would be immature and the brat would surely tell on him afterwards. "Did you stop me just so you could ask a stupid question, because I don't have the time you know!"

The boy's cheeks puff out indignantly and he flails his arms in the air, causing the Eevee to take a few steps back, startled. "It wasn't a stupid question, you jerk! I just thought I'd tell you, you look really dumb right now and people are gonna laugh at you since you're so wet."

"Che, so do you," Kanda argues, beginning to feel the familiar annoyance build up inside of him like a spark snagging onto a stray, dry leaf. Part of him wants to punch the boy so hard he'll spit out teeth for a week.

"But I'm not stupid enough to head back into town until I'm dry, unlike _someone_," the boy taunts with a wicked grin and a gleam in his silver-gray eyes that displays his youth fiercely. "I didn't think they'd let such stupid people be trainers. Don't ya have to pass a test? Or didja just cheat or something?"

"There's no test," Kanda hisses through gritted teeth, fists balled by his sides and quivering with the strain of being restrained. "And even if there was I wouldn't _cheat_ because I'd know enough to pass!"

"Oh?" he sounds, flopping onto the grass on his back only to roll playfully to his stomach. A crescent of alabaster skin peaks between his low-riding jeans and his shirt, showing off the dip of his lower back. He peers at Kanda while resting his head in his hands, making his eyes seem narrow and squeezed, and Kanda focuses on that because he has never seen someone's back dip so much and he finds it hard to not look. The boy still smiles that infuriating smile. "So you're saying that if you _didn't_ know enough to pass you'd cheat, huh?"

"That's not what I meant at all!" Kanda protests, angry that his words have been twisted against him and also that this annoying boy keeps insinuating that he's stupid, because he obviously isn't.

"Suuure," the boy sings out while petting what Kanda assumes is going to be _his_ Eevee, ruffling the fluffy tuft circling the Pokémon's throat. "But cheaters would never _say_ they would cheat, would they?"

"I'm not a cheater, you idiot!" Kanda stomps over to him, and his body blocks out the sun, cutting a field of shadow where the young, slender boy lay. He flicks him on the forehead, because that won't leave evidence afterward and he knows from experience that a proper flick hurts way more than people realize. "Now shut up and stop calling me stupid!"

A small hand slaps Kanda's fingers away from him and scrubs his forehead as if he's been soiled. "That hurt, you jerk," he mumbles, but doesn't retaliate physically. "Anyways, I haven't called you stupid in, like…" he twiddles his fingers around rapidly as if counting, but so fast that Kanda knows he really can't be, "a long time!"

"But you've been hinting it!"

"You can't prove nothing," the boy points out, sticking out his tongue and pulling his bottom eyelid down childishly. "So how do you know? Maybe you're just so dumb you're hearing things that aren't really…" He trails off when he realizes just what he had said. "Opps."

Kanda growls furiously, wheeling around in the other direction. He ignores the rubbing of his jeans against his thighs, the uncomfortable clinging of his clothes, and the way the mud in his hair makes it stick resolutely to his neck and cheeks. Taking angry, stomping steps, he heads to the bushes, uncaring of the stares he will receive while walking into the town, though suddenly eternally grateful his mom had packed so much, including a few changes of clothes.

From over his shoulder, he yells to the startled boy, "Just you wait! Once you become a Pokémon Trainer (and Kanda can somehow tell, just from looking at him clinging so closely to the injured little Eevee that he will be one some day) I'm going to thrash you!"

He doesn't bother to listen to a response, so caught up in his anger, choosing instead to lose his emotions by walking exceptionally fast. For a time all he concentrates on is the ground beneath his feet and the swimming image of the town before him. But as the town grows closer, and the sun-which has by now done a rather good job of drying his shirt, though his pants are still hopelessly damp-begins to press against him again, the harsh sting against his skin is seconded by a slowly growing burning along his inner thighs.

As he enters the town, pace long since whittled down - almost waddling, really, but he prefers the term 'shuffling'- purposely avoiding the eyes of everyone around him, he bitterly recalls the central source of his pain. It is at this time, as he opens the door to the Poké Center and the cool, almost chilly air generated from the AC hits him, that something dawns on him:

He never did get that boy's name.

---

"Espeon, finish it with Psychic!"

An intense glow lights up the stadium as the lilac, feline Pokémon obeys its Trainer's command, moving forward with terrific speed and a sharp cry of its name. The Espeon's opponent, a Venomoth, doesn't stand a chance. The Pokémon is briefly surrounded by a bright blue aura before being catapulted to the stadium's far wall, where it strikes with a dull clang. It faints with nary a struggle, despite its Trainer's cry for it to attempt to continue, and falls to the ground.

"Venomoth is unable to battle," a referee announces as the Trainer, a man by the name of Tyki Mikk who specializes in bug and poison types, returns the collapsed Pokémon to its Pokéball with a defeated sigh. The referee raises a green flag in Tyki's opponent's direction. "Trainer Allen is the winner!"

A loud roaring engulfs the previous silence set upon the stadium during the intense battle at the exclamation. People whistle loudly from their seats and clap fiercely or wave banners and signs, while others stand on their toes to get a better view of the fifteen year-old Allen Walker falling to his knees to embrace his Espeon.

Even from such great distances, it is easy to see the brilliant smile that adorns the boy's face, glowing with victory and a deep pride in the abilities of his team. It is easy to understand, when one observes the gentlemanly way he shakes Tyki's hand and gives him a few kind words before leaving the field, the determined way he commands his Pokémon, confident not in his training, but in _them_, and the perpetually gentle smile on his lips, why the world loves this boy, why so many always want him to win. To so many, Allen Walker, regional Pokémon Champion and the youngest recorded Pokémon Master at age fifteen is the epitome of perfection, an untouchable, angelic idol.

It is largely because of this blind worship of Allen Walker that Kanda finds his faith in humanity greatly diminished.

"Looks like you're gonna face him in the finals after all, huh, Yu-chan?" The young man sitting beside him in the Trainer's Deck cranes his neck to get a better view of Allen Walker exiting the Stadium from his sprawled position on a heavily cushioned sofa. He gives a soft sigh at the sight of the boy's Espeon weaving faithfully around its Master's legs, running gloved fingers through his messy, bright red hair. The sound is one of an understood resignation, an exhale of breath heavy in both its happiness and its reluctance. "His Pokémon love him; it's no wonder I lost."

"Che," the dark-haired Kanda Yu sounds from a couch sitting in the corner of the room, diagonal to the windows and in perfect view of the right-side of the Stadium. His dark eyes are still slightly narrowed in concentration, most likely from his observation of Allen's most recent battle. "You lost because you're a Researcher and he has more battle experience, stupid Lopunny, not because his Pokémon _love_ him."

"That's not true!" Lavi protests loudly, arms wind milling as he pulls himself into a sitting position. "I have plenty of experience with battles, Yu-chan; I've been battling for three years longer than he has, even if I mostly research Pokémon." The young man grins, a wicked spark in his single emerald-green eye ignited by some sort of thought. "Not to mention, you have more experience than he does too, and whenever you two battle he always whip-"

"If you know what's good for you, you'll shut up," Kanda warns in a clipped, sharp tone. "And _don't_ call me by my first name."

"Ah, I didn't know you were such a sore loser!" Lavi crows, pulling himself from his seat and stretching, arms in the air and fingers flexed wide. "If I were any other person, I'd think you might be jealous."

"Of _Bean sprout_?" Kanda scoffs with his arms crossed in front of his chest, as ridged as his countenance. "Why would I be jealous of that idiot?"

"Well," Lavi begins in a mock-thoughtful manner, flopping back onto the couch with a finger to his lip, "You have lost to him in only every competition the two of you've competed in on the same level." Lavi raises up his index finger while swinging his legs onto the wooden coffee table in front of him. "And there was that time last year when he won the rank of General in the Black Order when you were so sure you'd finally beat him…" Lavi's middle finger joins his first.

Imperceptibly, Kanda's grip on one of his Pokéballs tightens, fist shaking from the amount of force being used to restrain it.

"Oh!" Lavi strikes his head with his palm as if to say 'so stupid' –Kanda will have to agree whole-heartedly on this and only mourns that the Lopunny's headband probably cushions his head from any pain it could have caused-and laughs loudly. "And then you met him while you were on your way to try against the Elite Four and you challenged him and lost, and then," he snorts, and Kanda growls low in his throat, hackles raised in resentment borne from bitter memories and Lavi's continued existence, "when you were in the Center you found out he became the Champion. Then you said something like, 'Che, it's a stupid position anyway,' and stormed off to train more…"

With an angry flick of the wrist and a familiar metallic burst of sound, Kanda's Pokéball releases his first Pokémon. At the sight of Lavi throwing himself as far back into the couch as possible with a high-pitched yelp any Trainer would be ashamed of having uttered, Kanda can feel the first bits of his annoyance draining away. There is something about his Mightyena snapping at Lavi's heels-as if he truly is a Lopunny-that makes Kanda's mood significantly brighter; not exactly happy, per se, but certainly content.

"Listen, you idiot," Kanda snaps while calling off his Mightyena, which settles itself obediently by his side. "Whether or not your Pokémon love you doesn't make a difference in battle. Everything depends on training, skill and strategy. Only morons would think otherwise."

Slowly, Lavi raises himself up from his crouched position, looking strangely serious despite his now ruffled countenance. The narrowed appearance of his usually boisterous, bright eye makes Kanda frown. It is admittedly unsettling, the way Lavi's lack of traditional headband makes him seem so much more mature and disconnectedly knowledgeable.

"You're never going to win if you keep thinking that, Yu," Lavi tells him as he pulls his hanging headband back into place on his forehead. His hair flops to the other side of his head, and suddenly it is like he had never brought anyone anywhere any remote source of discomfort, let alone his self-proclaimed best friend. "After all, there's a reason why Allen always wins against you even though you've trained way longer than him. According to your reasoning, you should be miles ahead of him by now."

"Che." Kanda takes long strides to the exit, unwilling to keep talking to bipolar Lopunnys about the quality of loved Pokémon versus well-trained Pokémon, and even more unwilling to keep talking about the stupid Bean sprout's victories over him. "The Sprout probably cheats, then," Kanda says over his shoulder to the Researcher, more because he wants to get the last word in than because he actually believes it to be true. In fact, the mere thought of Allen Walker cheating is laughable, even to Kanda. The boy is far too much of a goodie-two-shoes to do something illegal and dishonorable. He'd probably sooner commit suicide.

Kanda steps out of the Viewing Room of the Trainer's Deck and kicks the door closed behind him. Tightening his ponytail while walking down a random, empty hallway, he whistles loudly, calling Mugen –his Mightyena- back to his side. The volatile trainer takes deep, even breathes, unwilling to allow his own foolishness to continue. Honestly, why should he care what that idiot says about him anyway?

Eventually the hallway opens up to an open field-like setting, which, while in actuality a training ground set for realism, gives off a feeling of deep tranquility. The grass is tall, jutting from the ground in thick, rubbery clumps that brush Kanda's thighs as he passes through them. The sound of their swishing against his jeans is distinct in the quiet, joined only by the quiet whispering of the swaying tree branches.

Of course, good things never seem to last for Kanda. His momentary peace is shattered only seconds after he seems to have discovered it by the sight of Allen Walker sitting a few hundred yards away from Kanda's position. The boy is beneath a tree, atop a classic red and white checkered blanket used for picnics, surrounded by his team of Pokémon.

Growling low in his throat at the sight –what sort of respectable Trainer coddles their Pokémon in such a manner? – Kanda wheels around to escape the distasteful scenes quickly enough one would think he walked directly into a sexual scandal.

"Kanda!" a smooth tenor calls out from across the field, somewhat quieted from the distance it traverses to reach the elder's hearing. "Kanda! Can you hear me?"

Upon hearing the call, he immediately quickens his pace to a brisk walk, not quite running, but obviously a barely restrained wish not far from physical manifestation. Why does the Bean sprout always try things like this at their tournaments? They're rivals! They declare death threats and fight to draw blood and mercilessly dig into each other's weak spots; under no circumstances are they supposed to sit down and have a friggin' picnic!

What's next? Tea and cookies?

Unfortunately, Fate has never been much of a fan of Kanda Yu, and Her distaste of his condescending attitude or belief in higher, divine powers is only too apparent when the sound of brush being trodden upon and pushed away begins to creep closer and closer to him. Stupid bean, so fucking persistent, always chasing after him as if they're some sort of friends. No matter what any Allen Walker fan may say, it is ridiculously clear that he's the same bitchy, needy, rude kid he was when they first met. After all, Kanda doubts a gentleman would try to force him into participating in some sort of gay tea party.

"Kanda!" Allen's clear voice comes from right behind him, and before he knows it a slim, long-fingered hand has latched itself onto his shoulder. The warmth permeates through his clothes and straight to his skin, which is odd, because Kanda's shirt isn't very thin. "I'm glad I caught you."

"Che, I slowed down for you, stupid Sprout." Even though this is technically a lie, he really hadn't gone nearly as fast as he could have. This may have more to do with his pride, because he definitely hadn't wanted to try to escape so quickly it looked like some sort of cowardice retreat, but still, full potential had not been utilized.

Allen raises a skeptical brow, which is partially lost under the side-swept bangs of his new, choppier haircut. The look doesn't seem to do much for the boy, no extra youth to his cheeks or baby fat snipped away to give an air of maturity, just a ripple of change washed along the plains of his appearance. Nothing else seems to have followed the loss of a couple inches of white hair, however. He is as painfully short as Kanda recalls him last being, and with the same reed-like thinness that had been a key factor in Kanda's nickname for him.

"Really?" he asks with an edge of sarcasm that Kanda definitely catches, because damn it all, he's _not_ stupid, "To me it looked a lot more like you were trying to get away from me."

The familiar jibe at his pride makes something prickle just beneath his skin, and Kanda bares his teeth, bristling. Much like Mugen just before battle, really. The sensation and stance are familiar, and Kanda falls into them with a natural affinity that is both comfortable and worrisome.

---

A/N-Well, I managed to get this one finished for its correct date, so I figured I might as well past it today instead of Christmas Eve. Hope you enjoyed a crackier kind of "Battle" theme, since I figured a lot would be more serious~


End file.
